Trusting Victor
by LastDaughter
Summary: When Sayah's Soulfinder shows up out of the blue and saves her from a life in prison, she's not sure how to feel. She knows they're meant to be together, but she's seen a side of him she's not sure she liked. He'll have to prove she can trust him if he wants her love. The only problem? When an enemy she thought she'd left behind shows up, they might not have long left..
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! This is my first FS fanfic and I just wanted to tell you all a couple of things in advance. 1) I have never been to America or Afghanistan, so I apologise if I am not 100% accurate in regards to language or landscape, though I will try my best. 2) I rated this T because there will probably be some violence and offensive language at some points. 3) I don't have an update schedule planned out yet, but I'll let you know as soon as I do. 4) I would love to hear your opinions on my writing or any constructive criticism you may have but I don't want you to feel pressured or obligated to review in any way. 5) I hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

I was too warm.

The simple metal bars in place of a window did nothing to let in the breeze. My tiny cell was stuffy, filled with the kind of heat that made it difficult to breathe. I guess I should have been used to it, having lived with it all my life, but I was used to the air conditioning of modern houses, not the unbearable heat of a dusty prison cell.

I fell back down on my bed and gazed up at the ceiling, neither of which really deserved their names. The bed was little more that a flimsy mat on the ground, and the ceiling was so riddled with cracks that it looked like it would fall down on me at any minute. As much as I hated being here, as much as I wanted to be able to go back home, I couldn't bring myself to wish it. If I was here, it meant that Aliah was safe, and there was nothing more important to me. Nothing I wanted more.

You can't be sure she's safe. What if she didn't make it? What if Amir got to her first? The logical part of my brain always had something to say, even if I didn't want it to. I wanted to tell it to shut up but it had a point; I didn't know for sure that Aliah had made it. I hoped she had. I really did. Tommy was with her, I told myself, he'd keep her safe.

That brought a smile to my face; my little sister and her Soulfinder, safe somewhere in America, happy together. It was all I wanted and I had to believe that it had happened. Otherwise, I'd end up going crazy.

The sound of metal locks being pulled open rang through my cell and I quickly sat up, my stomach rumbling in anticipation for some well needed food. Normally it was little more than bread and water, but every so often they'd grow a heart and add in some meat or cheese. I was hoping today was one of those days. The door opened reluctantly with a screech and a guard stepped into the room; to my disappointment, there was no food in his hands, only a gun.

"Stand." His voice was deep and gruff as he barked the command and I shakily got to my feet, confused as to what was happening. Were they finally giving me a trial? Doubtful, Amir's family was powerful enough that their word was pretty much law. It was unlikely I'd ever get a hearing, I'd just be left here to rot. So what was going on?

As soon as I was on my feet, the guard wrapped one hand tightly around my arm, pulling me out of my cell and into a corridor filled with identical metal doors. I had left my cell a number of times before in order to shower and it was possible that that was where I could be headed, but showers were only allowed once a week, sometimes less, and I had already been a couple of days ago. I was proved correct when I was lead straight past them and into a corridor I had never seen before.

A few more turns, and through a couple of doors, and we were in a corridor that looked like it didn't even belong in the same building as my cell. The floors were tiled, the walls were clean and painted, and the doors were wooden instead of metal. I hoped I was getting an upgrade but that didn't seem likely, there was no way in hell Amir would even think about making my stay more pleasant, in fact I was surprised he hadn't demanded I be put in the darkest, dirtiest cell they had.

I was pulled to a stop outside a door marked only "2" and the guard finally released his iron grip on my arm and took a step back. I rubbed the offended spot as I waited for instructions. Was I meant to go inside? I turned to him but he offered no information so I raised my hand; before I could knock, the door swung open and I was met by a carbon copy of the guard behind me though this one had a bigger gun and a nasty scar running down the right side of his face. He waved his gun in the direction of the room and I took it as an invite, stepping past the threshold.

The room was clean and bright, sunlight shining through the barred window, but unlike my cell, it wasn't devastatingly hot in here thanks to the fan whirring away in the corner. Along with the fan was a basic stainless steel table and two metal chairs that looked like they were bolted to the floor. If Aliah were here, she'd no doubt be making snarky remarks about their poor choice of interior designer. One of the chairs was empty, I assumed it was for me, but the other one had an occupant. As I sat down, I allowed myself to study him.

The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing a suit; he had to be a foreigner, no native would be foolish enough to wear formal attire in this weather unless they wanted to get a bad case of heat stroke. I resisted the urge to tut at his stupidity and turned my attention to his face. He was young and explicitly good looking; dark hair tied back from his face, high cheek bones, strong features, eyes that were a strange mixture of ice blue and gun metal grey. He was not the kind of person you expected to come across in an Afghan prison.

"Sayah Lucas, I presume." His voice was as cold and calculated as his eyes, giving nothing away about himself or his reason for being here. "Do you speak English?"

"I do." I replied, wishing I had been allowed a drink before this so that my voice wasn't so croaky. I was only made more self conscious by the feel of his gaze on my face. When was the last time I smoothed down my hair, or washed my face? Why should I even care? I shouldn't. I moved my eyes to meet his, determined to prove I was not intimidated.

"I'm Special Agent Victor Benedict with the FBI. I'm here today to talk to you about a few things." FBI? Like the police? I tried to think back to all the crime movies I had watched; an image of spies and underground secret headquarters popped up and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling when the mission impossible theme song floated through my mind. I cleared my throat, trying to remember the seriousness of the situation.

"What kind of things?" He reached inside his suit and out of the corner of my eye I saw the guard stiffen, only to relax again when he produced two photographs. He placed them on the table in front of me and I leant down for a closer look. As soon as I realised what they showed, I swung back, clamping my hand over my mouth. Two women, hands and feet bound, blood soaking their clothes from the identical cuts on their necks. I could feel my stomach start to churn, the images a little to close to a memory I had long since tried to bury. I reached out a shaky hand and turned the pictures over.

"Why are you showing me these?" My voice was barely more than a whisper but I knew he had heard. He picked up the photos and set them down again, right side up. I looked away.

"Is it that hard to look at your own work?" My head snapped round so fast I'm surprised I didn't break my neck. He was staring at me, waiting for my reaction, waiting for my answer.

"What?!"

"We have evidence." No. " We can prove it was you." NO. "You did this."

"You're wrong!" I was out of my seat only to be roughly pushed back down by the guard a second later. This couldn't be happening! Why was this happening?

"I don't even know those women. I've never seen them before!" My voice was shaking and tears were threatening to spill over. I pushed away the photos, he pushed them back.

"You're lying."

"Please, I've been here, you have to believe me!" I turned over the pictures. He turned them back.

"You're lying!"

"IT WASNT ME!"

"YOU KILLED THEM!" His voice shot through the room like a bullet and left me paralysed, breath caught in my throat, tears running silently down my cheeks. His eyes were on fire, chest heaving, hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. I had never been so scared of what someone could do. "You killed them and I'm going to make sure you spend the rest of your life paying for it."

He nodded to the guard and I was pulled to my feet, out the door, and stumbling after him down a corridor. I didn't bother arguing. I didn't dare. It would only fall on deaf ears anyway. This was truly the end.

* * *

There we have it! Like I mentioned up above, I don't have an update schedule yet but the next chapter should be up in no more than a couple of days. Thanks for reading...


	2. Chapter 2

Next chapter. I've decided my updates are gonna be pretty sporadic - I'll be updating every 2-4 days. It's random, I know, but I have some other projects I'm getting on with at the moment and this is what works best for me right now. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

I was pushed into another room with the same furnishings as last time only minus the fan. No luxuries. I don't know how long I sat there in the makeshift furnace, brushing tears of my cheeks, trying to not think about the kind of punishments Victor Benedict would bestow on me. I hated Amir, and vice versa, but even he hadn't been a total pig; daily food and access to the showers wasn't a courtesy granted to all of the prisoners here. Inside these walls, I was considered a "lucky one".

But Victor Benedict, the FBI, I didn't know anything about them. What hell would they put me through? I had seen him angry earlier, even if it was only for a few brief moments, but I already knew his bad side was a place you never wanted to be. Unfortunately, I was.

I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat, and tried as best I could to compose myself; though drying my eyes and running fingers through my hair probably didn't do much to better my no doubt crappy appearance. My fingers found a knot in my hair and I tugged, ignoring the pain in my scalp and using it as a welcome distraction. The more I tugged the angrier I got; at myself for not being strong enough, at Amir for putting me in this situation in the first place, at Victor Benedict for accusing me of something I never would have, or could have, done. The strands of hair finally came loose and with it my anger died.

I had to believe in myself, even if nobody else would. I had to believe I would make it out of this. I was innocent, surely that had to mean something.

The next time the doors opened, a man walked in. Over the past couple of hours (days?) countless people had been in and out of the room. Afghani guards tasked with watching me, a couple of Americans who asked questions, others who just observed, one who kindly brought me a bottle of water which took me all of two seconds to gulp down.

The man stood before me now was one I recognised all to well; before I would have called him handsome, good looking to a fault, but now that I knew the rage that rippled under his skin, I couldn't bring myself to see him as anything other than dangerous. A bomb that had no timer to indicate when it would explode.

I tracked Agent Benedict's movements as he made his way around the table, coming to a stop beside me. I couldn't stop myself from flinching when he reached out a hand towards me, an unconscious reaction to avoid any pain he might dish out. My movement didn't go unnoticed; for the smallest moment, something crossed his face. Anger? I didn't think so, it seemed more like regret, but before I could look into it any further, his face was once again impassive. This time though he didn't reach out to me.

"Hands." I followed his command, raising both arms, palms facing upwards. I knew what was coming next, a pair of uncomfortable metal bracelets that would dig into my skin and mark me as something I wasn't – a criminal. My eyes stung with unshed tears as his clicked them into place.

I followed him out of the room silently, aware of the armed guard following us, just waiting for me to put a foot out of line so he could have the perfect excuse to be trigger happy. Maybe I should go for it, make a desperate dash for freedom, even if I knew it was pointless, I'd be dead before I got more that a few steps. Still, why did I have to lose?

Aliah. Be strong for Aliah.

The thought resounded in my head and wracked me with guilt. How could I even be thinking that way. I couldn't leave Aliah alone, we'd already lost enough family, I wasn't going to be the one to put her through that again. Never.

I pulled myself from my thoughts in time to register what was happening.

The main prison doors had been pulled open by two guards and my little entourage were stepping outside. As soon as my feet hit the dusty ground, they came to a stop. How long had it been since I had been outside of those prison walls. Months? Years? A lifetime? The sun was shining high and bright in the sky, and for once I wasn't looking at it trough the bars of my cell window. The air was warm and fresh and delicious, a gentle breeze only allowing a passing rest from the heat. I saw a couple of the Americans, other agents I presumed, loosen their ties and roll up their sleeves, finally feeling the effects of wearing a suit now that they were no longer inside cooled rooms. For the first time since I had put them on, I was thankful for my baggy, prison issue shirt and trousers; they were the exact shade of orange Aliah told me to never wear, but they were comfortable and cooling in the sweltering heat.

The familiar pressure of a gun pressed into my back told me that I wasn't moving fast enough for the guard, so I picked up my pace, trailing after the long strides of Victor Benedict. A few feet in front of us sat two ominous, black SUVs. They would have looked completely out of place in the desert-like environment if it wasn't for the thin covering of sandy dust they each had; a sure sign they had be driving down Kabul's roads.

As if in practice formation, the FBI agents split up, four heading towards one car, the other two heading towards the other with Benedict close behind. I came to a stop, conscious of the gun once again pressing into my back but unsure of what I was meant to do. Did I follow Victor Benedict, or was I meant to go with the other car? The guard was getting agitated now, muttering commands and curse words at me under his breath. When he reached the car, Agent Benedict, held the door open and turned to me, offering a silent invitation into the car. I stumbled forward, happy that I had been given some instruction, and slid into the soft leather seat. It was only when he slid in next to me that I realised I would much sooner be back outside with the guard pressing his weapon into my spine.

I didn't trust Victor Benedict. Not in the slightest.

The journey was a long and quiet one. I had no idea where we were headed and I didn't dare ask. I just watched silently as the familiar landscape of my hometown slowly drifted away. When the sun started to set and we showed no sign of stopping, I allowed my eyelids to become heavy. The logical part of my brain was screaming at me not to let my guard down, to not put myself at an unnecessary disadvantage while in the company of people I neither knew or trusted. But the gentle motion of the car and the plush seats, which were a world more comfortable that the thin mattress in my cell, was pulling me closer and closer towards sleep. I wanted to lie down, to stretch out on the delightfully soft seats, to have one moment of luxury before we arrived at whatever hell they were taking me to.

But to my right, only a few inches away, sat Victor Benedict; he was tapping away at his phone like he had been doing on and off since we first got in the car. Even in the half light, he still looked dangerous, mysterious. As much as I wanted the most comfortable rest, nobody could pay me to move any closer to him. I settled instead for leaning my head against the cool window; the air con had been blasting since we left the prison but soon the temperature would drop outside and they'd be forced to turn on the heat. As hot as it got in the day time, it got as equally cold at the night.

It didn't take long for my eyes to stay closed for longer and open less and before I knew it, I was drifting into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Italics = Character thought_

 _ **Bold italics = Telepathic conversation**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

I was awoken two times from my blissfully dreamless sleep. The first only lasted a few seconds, just long enough for me to recognise the distinct felling of being carried, pulled tightly to someone's chest. The second was the next morning judging by the bright sunlight that was shining directly on me.

I groaned and turned over, tugging the blankets above my head in the hopes I could get back to the most peaceful sleep I had had in a long time. Even with my sleep fogged brain, it didn't take me long to realise there was something incredibly wrong with what I had just done. Blankets wrapped around me? A mattress beneath me? Something was wrong.

Pushing myself up, all ideas of sleep gone, I tried to figure out where I was.

The room I was in didn't give much away. Plain white walls, a small metal table and two chairs, and the single bed I was currently in. I pushed away the covers and got up; I was still in the same clothes I was wearing when I left the prison which provided a little bit of comfort. I had no idea where I was and it was nice think that wherever I was probably couldn't be worse than where I had come from.

There was a window on the wall adjacent to the bed. It wasn't barred or even frosted and allowed me a clear view. Outside I could still see the familiar sandy landscape I had grew up with, the sun shining brightly in the sky, causing heat waves to hover just above the horizon. Chances were we were still in Afghanistan. Not a city, there were no other buildings in sight, and the only people I could see were a few uniformed guards. Panic bloomed in my stomach until I remembered who I was dealing with. The FBI was bound to have some sort of protection, they'd be stupid not to.

I moved away from the window and turned to look at the rest of the room. It wasn't big or fancy but after where I had just spent the past couple of months, it was practically a 5 star hotel. Bright, clean, and air-conditioned.

Now that I was standing, I could see that there was something on the table. I moved closer, curious to see what it was. Laid out neatly were a selection of things; a pile of clothes, a pair of trainers, a bottle of water, a sandwich, a packet of crisps, and an apple. My stomach growled at the sight, uncomfortably aware that I hadn't eaten in over a day. Surely this stuff was for me. If not, why would they leave it here.

Oh, screw it.

I picked up the sandwich and ripped into the packaging, taking a bite and sighing in contentment, relishing the feeling of eating a proper meal. It didn't take me long to finish it and the crisps and apple soon followed. It was only when I had finished the water that I turned my attention to the other items. I picked them up cautiously.

A pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and some slip on trainers. It made sense that these were also for me seeing as they were left in here, but something was off. The FBI had accused me of murder and they were given me... jeans? Surely they should be giving me something more suitable, like a jumpsuit or something. I wasn't about to complain though.

I looked around, unsure of whether I should just change here of if I should wait for someone to come and then ask them. I don't want to be halfway through changing then have someone walk in. Luckily a knock on the door solved my dilemma.

Without even waiting for an answer, the door opened and a woman stepped inside. She was about my height, but that was where the similarities stopped; with her impeccable skirt suit, flawless hair and makeup, and general air of put togetherness, she looked like she had just stepped out of magazine. I, on the other hand, probably looked like crap. Scratch that – there was no probably about it.

"You're awake." Even her voice was nice, if a bit cold. I nodded, not wanting to talk, and not knowing if she even expected me to.

"You're going to need to bring your clothes." She gestured to the pile in my hands. "Everything else will be provided for you." I frowned in confusion, not sure what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry, but where are we going?"

"We thought you'd like a shower but you can stay here if you want." She raised a perfect eyebrow in question. It was so strange to be given a choice, I almost wanted to laugh, but I don't think that would have been appreciated.

"A shower sounds great, thanks."

I was back in my room again.

My trip outside had been brief but well appreciated. I had been shown to the showers – nice, clean, new showers that actually had temperatures other than lukewarm – and allowed to take my time. Shampoo, soap, and towels were all waiting for me. I was even given a razor; they clearly didn't think I was going to try to do anything stupid.

After the better part of an hour, I finally stepped out from under the steaming water, feeling cleaner and more human than I had in a long time. Changing into my new clothes, my life almost felt normal again. My happy mood, however, was dampened when I was returned to my room. The four walls and metal furniture were a drastic reminder of my circumstances. Out of one prison, and headed to another – both for crimes I didn't commit.

Now I was sitting at the table waiting to see what would happen next.

The only upside was that while I was gone, someone had restocked my room with enough food and water to feed the five thousand, or me, in my current state. I was making steady progress through the provisions as I tried to come up with a plan on how to get a message to Aliah.

The short time period I was out of prison would definitely be the closest I would come to a phone, but it seemed very unlikely the FBI would just had one over. The thought crossed my mind that I could try to steal one but the only people around were armed and probably dangerous. As much as I wanted to call my sister, I didn't want to get shot because of it.

My options were not looking good.

I was halfway through constructing a mental conversation in which I simply asked them nicely for a phone call when there was a knock at my door for the second time today. Expecting it to be the same woman from earlier – Agent Rebecca Fields, as I had later found out – I waited for her to enter. After a few seconds of silence, the knock came again and I finally realised whoever was out there was waiting for an invitation.

"Come in." I called out, intrigued to see who this polite newcomer was. When the figure stepped into the room, that intrigue died.

There stood Agent Benedict, looking exactly the same as the day before – cold and calculating. He didn't have a weapon yet I was scared of him more than I was of the men outside. It took all my effort not to retreat to the other side of the room and put as much distance between us as possible. As much as I wanted to, I didn't think showing my fear would be a good decision in this situation. Like most deadly predators, he could probably smell fear and no doubt thrived on it. I had to put on a brave face.

"Agent Benedict." Even a brave face couldn't stop my voice from wavering. I ignored it and focused on him instead. He shut the door behind him, closing us both in, then made his way towards the table; taking the seat across from me, a brief smile quirking his lips as he took in the empty packets that littered the table. A sense of Deja vu washed over me. Any minute now and he'd start shouting bloody murder again. I wasn't looking forward to it. In a room on our own and under FBI custody no less. Nobody would come to my rescue if his angry words turned to fists.

"Sayah." His voice was... kind. Uncomfortably so. He sounded so tender, as if he hadn't been threatening me less than 24 hours ago. I didn't know what he was playing at, but I didn't like it. Was this all a sick way of amusing himself? His own little game of good cop, bad cop?

"I see you found the food I left." He chuckled, moving some wrappers aside. The food in question started to churn in my stomach. He had left it? The thought made me sick. The last thing I wanted was to be indebted to him. I didn't want to answer him, but I could afford to be rude either, so I begrudgingly replied.

"I did. It was a lot nicer than what I'm used to." They say flattery will get you everywhere, but all he did was frown. He remained like that for a few seconds; eyebrows pulled together, lips turned down, eyes clouded over. I was half tempted to ask him if he was alright.

"Sayah," There he goes again with that voice, that tone... "there's a few things I need to tell you." He raised his eyes to meet mine and I was shocked to see the amount of emotion they held – such a stark contrast to the closed off grey I was used to.

"First I want to apologise." What? "The way I treated you back in Kabul was unforgivable but I hope you can try to understand my reasoning behind it. I had to make it look believable or they might not have let you go so easily." What was he saying? He was apologising but for what? For shouting at me or for accusing me? Make it "look believable"... Why did that even mean? I was so confused.

"I don't know what you're talking about." This was not what I had expected and in some ways that was worse than his anger. At least I knew what to expect from him when he was mad at me. How was I supposed to react when he was apologising?

"I know you don't, but I'm going to explain as best I can. Just bare with me, okay?" I nodded, not sure what else I could do. I'd listen to what he had to say – if anything, it would buy me a little more time.

"Those murders I accused you of are from a closed case. We caught the killer. We know it wasn't you. I just needed a reason to get you out of there and back here under the protection of the FBI." I couldn't believe what he was saying. My mind was torn between relief and worry. I wasn't being accused of a crime I didn't commit, but I was waiting for the downside. If I wasn't here for murder, what was I here for? My mind jumped to Aliah in panic. Surely nothing had happened to her that would warrant the FBI getting involved. Oh God, don't let it be Aliah.

"The real reason I came here was to get you out of that hellhole. I came to rescue you." He offered me a smile but I didn't return it. How could I when I didn't even know what it was for. He had promised me answers but I had learnt nothing. My patience was wearing thin.

"Rescue me?" Even to my own ears I sounded hysterical but how could I not? I had been accused, un-accused, asked for forgiveness, taken from one prison and promised another one, and now I was being told things I didn't even understand. "I don't understand. Just please tell me why I'm here."

He reached across the table to rest a large palm over mine and then had the audacity to look upset when I jerked away from him. Just because he had apologised, didn't mean I had forgotten how quickly his behaviour could change. Under that upset and regretful facade was a dangerous man.

He sighed and pulled back his hand, running it along his jaw and up into his hair. He looked like he was out of his comfort zone but so was I. I just wanted answers. But the one that came wasn't one I would ever have expected.

"It's you, Sayah." His eyes locked on to mine, full of sadness, and uncertainty, and... desire?

 _ **You're my Soulfinder**_.


	4. Chapter 4

This is a short one but it's necessary so don't be too mad :)

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

I don't know how long the silence lasted. It felt like hours.

He waited patiently, eyes never straying from my face. Me on the other hand, I was looking anywhere but him. The floor, the window, my own hands gripped tightly on the edge of the table. I knew that if I looked at him, looked at those eyes, I'd find myself falling. Falling for the story. Falling for him.

He was my Soulfinder. I couldn't deny that.

My head was still ringing from the sound of his voice - every word, every syllable, still dancing around in my mind. Those three words had changed me in ways that I couldn't describe. I felt different, more alive – more everything. I had heard about the feeling, from my parents, from Aliah, but it was nowhere close to how it felt to actually experience it. My centre had shifted and now my body was attuned to him.

And yet I still feared him.

To harm ones Soulfinder is to harm oneself. A well worn phrase amongst savant kind, and yet I still wondered what he would do if he got angry. What he would do if I ever pushed him too far. What he would do if he decided he wanted more from me than I was willing to give. I barely knew this man and yet I was expected to fall at his feet and expect nothing but his undying love in return for mine.

In the short time I had known him he had lied to me, threatened me, and now... this.

 _Us_.

My heart yearned to touch him, to be with him, to crawl into his arms and stay there for the rest of my life. But my mind – my sensible, logical, reasonable mind – knew that couldn't happen. Not yet, at least. He'd have to work to earn my trust, my love, and if he wanted me – truly wanted me – that wouldn't be a problem.

I reached out to our telepathic connection that had quietly been humming away in the background of my mind and replied.

 _ **You're may be my Soulfinder, but that doesn't mean I know you. If you want my trust, you'll have to earn it.**_

 _ **Anything**_. His reply came instantly.

 _ **I need to make a phone call**_.

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Shoutout to Prettyweirdgirl and my other guest reviewers. It means a lot to me!


	5. Chapter 5

Wow, so many reviews on that last chapter! Thanks guys, I really enjoyed reading what you thought. It's nice to know you're enjoying the story. Thanks to all the people who followed the story too! I hope I don't disappoint... :)

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

I was standing in some sort of lounge area, waiting for my call to be connected. Agent Benedict had brought me down here and told me to take my time before retreating to the other side of the room to give me some privacy, which I thought was nice until I realised someone would probably be listening in on my phone call anyway. On the way down here he had told me that we were in the Afghanistan FBI headquarters – I found it unlikely they'd just allow people to make calls without having information on who they were to and what they were talking about. Maybe I should have been angry at the lack of privacy, but I was to excited to care. I'd finally be able to talk to Aliah. _If she made it,_ my mind reminded me. _Of course she did._

A voice on the other side of the line informed me that my call had been successful and that I would be connected shortly. The ringing that followed seemed to go on for hours and by the time someone picked up, I was bouncing on the balls of my feet impatiently.

"Hello?" A gruff voice answered on the other side. A voice I hadn't know long but could identify anywhere.

"Tommy! Oh my God! Can you hear me?"

"Sayah? No way! Is it really you?" He sounded just as excited as I did. If he was okay that meant...

"Yeah, it's me. Where's Aliah? Is she with you? Is she safe?" I was desperate to hear her voice, to know for myself that she was alright. That she was happy. I heard Tommy call out her name before addressing me again.

"She's fine. She's safe. I'm so glad you're okay. We've been worried sick!" He was cut off by the arrival of somebody. I could faintly hear them through the phone.

"What's up? Who are you talking to?" I heard her ask and I let out a sob of relief at the sound of her voice. My little sister! A second later it was her voice on the line.

"Hello?" She sounded confused and tried not to burst out laughing at the fact that I was talking too her. Actually talking to her!

"Aliah! I'm so happy you're okay!" There was a few seconds of silence on the line.

"No... No! Oh my God, is it really you?"

"Yeah. I'm cal-"

"Sayah, you idiot! Do you know how worried I've been? I though you were dead or worse! I've been waiting for months. I wanted to come back and get you but Tommy said it was too dangerous. OH MY GOD!" I laughed at her excitement, not realising how much I had missed her voice until it was screaming at me down the phone. The something she said caught my attention.

"Come back? You mean you got out? You made it to America?"

"Of course! It was only when we were already halfway to the plane that I realised my big sister was nowhere to be found. How could you do that to me? You were meant to come too, that was the plan!" I winced at her words. That had been the plan but when it all came down to it, someone had had to stay behind to throw Amir off their trail and there was no way it was going to be Aliah or Tommy. There would have been no point in the escape plan if one of them had stayed.

"I'm sorry, Aliah. I'll explain it all to you when I see you. Where are you anyway?"

"Chicago. We've been staying with Tommy's family while he's on leave. Where are you? Are you in America?"

"No, I'm still in Afghanistan. I'm working on getting out of here though. It might take a while, I don't have my passport or anything."

"Do you have anyone who can help you? Me and Tommy can come back, his friends in the special forces might be able to help?"

"No!" There was no way I was letting her come back here. If word got out she was back in the country, Amir would stop at nothing to get her back. "No, don't come. I've, uh, got somebody who I can ask for help if I need it."

"Really? Who?" I looked across the room to where Agent Benedict was standing, his eyes already on me. If it came down to it, I could always ask him for help. I didn't really want to, and I wasn't sure he would actually oblige but I didn't have much choice.

"Just a... friend."

"Sayah, is everything all right?" She sounded concerned and I wanted to reassure her but everything I could possibly say just sounded like a lie. I didn't want to worry her unnecessarily.

"I'm fine. I have to go, Aliah. I'll call you again soon."

"You better! Just... try to get here, okay?"

"I will. I promise." I meant it. I'd do it for her. I had to.

"Okay... Be safe."

"You too."

The line went dead. I put the phone back on the hook and leant back against the wall, trying to sort through all the emotions that were rushing through me. Relief that she was okay. Guilt because I had made her worry. Happiness that she and Tommy were together. Sadness that I couldn't be by her side.

When the first tear fell, I brushed it away. I didn't bother the next time. I let them fall down my cheeks until I was sobbing, everything that had happened in the past months finally catching up with me. I hadn't let myself cry in prison – I couldn't allow myself to show weakness in front of people who thrived off it. But here, the FBI headquarters in the middle of nowhere, I didn't care who saw or what they thought of me.

I just cried.

It wasn't until the tears had dried on my face and my sobs had turned to shaky breaths that I realised I wasn't alone. I was curled up on the floor by the phone but it wasn't the wall I was pressed against, it was somebody's chest. I allowed myself for a brief second to simply find comfort in the embrace – enjoying the feeling of strong arms wrapped around me and warm palms rubbing soothing circles on my back. I couldn't remember the last time I had been held like this. I couldn't remember the last time I felt this safe.

Then the moment passed. I pushed away from the comforting embrace and looked up to identify the strangers face. It wasn't a strangers eyes I met. I shouldn't have been surprised, Agent Benedict had been the only one in the room when I had started crying after all. It made sense that he was the one holding me. But the shock still ran through me. Partly because it was a surprise to see him this close looking so worried, but mostly because of how much I wanted to fall back into his arms again. It was a scary thing – having a mind and a body that were so ready to give themselves completely to a stranger. My body was meant to be mine to control but just being near him causing an uproar inside me. How easy it would be to give up the fight and fall for him...

But I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

 _You're stronger than that, Sayah. You can't base a relationship on attraction alone. What do you know about his personality? What do you know about him?_ What did I know about him? Hardly anything – he was an FBI agent, he was my Soulfinder... That was pretty much it. I had to have some will power.

Moving backwards until I was no longer touching him, I stood up, ignoring the hand he held out for support, and dusting imaginary dirt from my clothes to avoid his eyes. When he got to his feet next to me, I was taken by surprise once again. I had seen him standing before, but never this close to me. Now I could see just how much taller than me he was; at around 5'6, I wasn't small by any means but he made me feel like an infant, my head not even reaching his shoulder. If it wasn't for the look of compassion in his eyes, I might have been more afraid of his closeness.

"Are you okay?" He asked, my breath hitching in my throat as he swept a stand on hair behind my ear. I waited for his hand to drop back down to his side but it stayed, resting against my cheek, gently rubbing away the tracks left behind by my tears. I didn't know whether to move away or just bare with it; it managed to feel pleasant and uncomfortable at the same time, and I was unsure of how to react.

"I'm fine." If I kept my answers short, maybe he'd stop asking questions. I didn't want to give him anything he could use against me. If I was alone, I probably would have laughed at that particular thought – the past months had made me very suspicious. I didn't know whether that was a curse or a blessing.

"Who did you call?"

"A friend." He sighed and withdrew his hand – which was a relief and a disappointment – running it along his jaw in a way I had seen him do before. There was something in his eyes I couldn't read; not quite anger, but something along those lines. Irritation maybe?

"Sayah, I know you don't trust me and I understand that. But I'd like it if you could at least tell me some things about yourself. I'm not asking for your life story, not at the moment, but it would be nice if you could tell me something." It was a perfectly logical request; it was only natural he would want to know more about his Soulfinder. So why was I reluctant to share anything? Yes I didn't want him using anything against me, but there was something else too.

If I opened up to him, told him things about myself, it would make this all the more real. I had a Soulfinder. A real, living, breathing, walking, talking, job at the FBI, most definitely knows how to use a gun, sometimes scary Soulfinder. After years of accepting that I'd probably never meet him, it was hard to adjust.

I looked up at him as he waited for my answer, arms crossed, a menacing look on his face – which I wasn't quite sure was a look or whether it was just his natural expression. If I kept my mouth shut, what would he do? Would he just let me be? Wait until I was ready? _Yeah right,_ the logical part of my brain scoffed. It was right. He seemed like the type that was used to getting what he wanted from people.

"Like what?" I questioned. Maybe if I told him some small insignificant things, he'd ease up a little.

"Whatever you want to tell me." He sounded hopeful, probably because I wasn't outright refusing to tell him anything. "I'd really like to know how you ended up in this situation but that can wait until you're ready to share it. As for now, I'd be happy with anything."

So, he was okay with stupid pointless facts about me. That was good. On the other hand, I had no idea what to tell him. Aliah was always the one who was good at this stuff; for her, making friends was as easy as breathing. I preferred to have one or two close friends and leave it at that. I had never really progressed in the small talk area.

"You mean my favourite colour and stuff like that?" I was being completely serious but he laughed at my question anyway, placing a hand against my lower back and directing me towards one of the sofas that were scattered around the room.

"Yeah, your favourite colour and stuff like that."


	6. Chapter 6

I know this was on the later side of my 2-4 day upload schedule but i've been working overtime on some projects that need finishing so even though I apologise, the next chapter might be a little delayed too. A big thank you to all my reviewers! It makes my day when a review pops up in my inbox! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

"So, what _is_ your favourite colour?"

We were sitting on one of the sofas towards the back of the room, him on one side, me on the other, enough space between us for me to feel comfortable. He had made a quick trip somewhere and come back with a coffee for himself, and a bottle of water for me. He had been rather shocked when I had told him I didn't like coffee and he had laughed at the fact that the first thing he had learnt about me was something he couldn't agree with.

Now he was back sitting beside me, coffee cup in his hands, eyes on my face as I thought about his question.

"I don't think I have one. There's not really a colour I like better than the rest. Maybe blue like the sky, or green like the trees in the city." I glanced sideways to see if he was satisfied with my answer. I took his small smile to mean he was. What now? Should I ask him a question in return or just wait for him to ask me another one?

"I'd probably have to agree with you." He said, taking a sip of his coffee thoughtfully. "In hindsight, that's a bit of a stupid question." He tapped the fingers of his free hand against his thigh, no doubt trying to think of something else to ask.

"Okay, I've got it. What's your favourite food?"

Ironically, the more questions he asked, the more relaxed I became. There was just something about him that made me want to tell him everything. Of course I didn't, but the urge to was still there. We were still on opposite sides of the sofa but we were sat facing each other now so it was easier to talk. He was halfway through telling me a story about one of his brothers and he just seemed... different.

He still seemed closed off and cold but less so now. With a smile on his face and his eyes alight, he looked happy. It was a good look on him. Not that I was paying attention to his looks. Much. I wasn't blind and it would be difficult not to notice how handsome he was. But as gorgeous as he was, it wasn't just his looks that were attractive. It was the way he'd turn towards me and give me that barely-there half smile. Or the way he would stop every now and then and just let his eyes wonder over my face when he though I wasn't looking. If I wasn't careful, I'd end up doing something stupid that I would seriously regret. I was meant to be being cautious of him after all.

"The moral of that story is to never leave Xav alone with anything you don't want levitating." He chuckled and I felt guilty for not listening properly. The story was clearly a found memory of his. I'd have to ask him to retell it sometime. His laughter slowly came to a stop and I waited for his next question or story. When none came, I looked to him in confusion.

He was looking back at me, his eyes clouded over with an emotion I couldn't quite place. Panic started to bloom in my stomach. Had I done something I shouldn't have? Had I been stupid to let my guard down?

"Sayah..." His voice was quiet but strong, so much emotion put into one name. I was about to answer when he reached out to me, his hand crossing the small distance between us to brush against my cheek. He waited for a second then reached across the other hand, cupping my face gently in his palms.

"Sayah, I... " I didn't dare speak and I probably wouldn't have been able to even if I tried; my mouth had gone dry and a lump was forming in the back of my throat.

He moved forward slowly, as if he were afraid moving any faster would startle me. It probably would have done if my body wasn't being so traitorous. I knew I should stop him, should walk away why I was still able to, but my body was unwilling to move away from his touch. Before I knew it, he was right beside me, thigh pressed against mine, looking down into my eyes.

"I don't want to rush you." He breathed. "If you tell me to stop, I will."

 _Tell him to stop, goddamnit!_ That voice was right. I knew it was. My mind flooded with images of him at the prison – angry, shouting, dangerous. I knew that side of him was still in there somewhere. But still I pushed all thoughts of it aside.

He was so close I could see all the individual flecks in his irises. From afar they looked grey but up close they were much more; blues and blacks and silvers. And those lips. They were hovering over mine, so close I could feel his breath fan across them with every exhale.

 _This is your chance to stop this. You still have time. Don't let it go any further. You don't want that._

But maybe I did want that. To feel his lips against mine. Those lips that smiled at me, and told me stories about his past, and laughed when I said something funny or stupid. Those lips that were so close, too close, but not close enough.

"Sayah, do you want me to stop?" His voice was barely a whisper, his lips brushing just the tiniest bit against my own as he spoke. I didn't even have to think about an answer, I was already shaking my head.

I didn't want him to stop. And he wasn't going to.

My eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, feeling his hands move backwards into my hair as he leaned down and-

"Agent Benedict, there's a call for you in Westwood's office."

We sprung apart so fast, I almost fell off the sofa. I whipped around to look for the person who had interrupted. A woman I didn't know stood in the doorway, arms crossed. If she was surprised to have found us in such a... compromising position, she didn't let it show.

I turned back to Agent Benedict who was standing now, looking both angry and startled. The look he shot at the woman definitely wasn't friendly. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat, his face back to its default emotionless expression. He made his way towards to door, stopping briefly beside me.

"Wait here, okay? I'll be back in a minute." I nodded at him, unable to meet his eyes. I saw him reach out a hand towards me and then hesitate before dropping it back to his side. Then he was gone and I was left alone.

What the hell had just happened?

 _You were going to kiss him. All this talk about earning trust, and you were going to kiss him!_ God, how could I be so stupid? I had allowed myself to get caught up in the moment. Let my attraction to him take over. What would have happened if we hadn't been interrupted. Would I have still have gone through with it? Would I have let him kiss me?

 _Yes._

It was true. I would have. I still wanted too...

I was such a fool! He asks me a few questions, smiles a bit, and I'm ready to just roll over and do whatever he wants. I can't even trust myself, let alone him. From now on I had to be sensible. I'd be civil and polite but nothing more. I couldn't let myself be a pushover. Not now. I wouldn't fall for him.

I wouldn't fall for him.

I wouldn't.


End file.
